


I swear he's destined for the screen

by secretsinmysoul



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artistic Steve, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Random HC, SO MUCH FLUFF, Skinny!Steve, Steve thinks Bucky should be on the silver screen, Stucky - Freeform, steve/bucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3131924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsinmysoul/pseuds/secretsinmysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's the closest thing to Clark Gable that Steve's ever seen.<br/>When Bucky comes home a little tipsy from a night of dancing and drinking, Steve notices how beautiful he is. Steve thinks Bucky belongs in a motion picture but he supposes a drawing will have to do.<br/>Kisses happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I swear he's destined for the screen

Bucky had come home from a night of dancing and drinking. He was a little tipsy to put it mildly. He’d thrown the front door of their apartment open and called for Steve in the deep tone of voice that only made an appearance when his breath was warm with alcohol.

Steve, sat alone in their bedroom with a book on his lap, rolled his eyes when he heard said tone but obliged his best friend and put down the book to answer Bucky’s calls.

“Did you have fun, Buck?” Steve asked, stepping out of their bedroom and into the living room.

“I sure as hell did Stevie,” He replied, grinning and loosening his tie, “you shoulda come.”

“Yeah as if you’d have let me – I’m still recovering from that flu, you said so yourself, remember?”

“Yeah…yeah I remember. How you feelin’ now?” He mumbled.

“I’m better. I’m swell, Buck.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear, Stevie.”

Steve took a seat on the couch as he watched Bucky fling open their window so he could perch on the edge and smoke into the street.

He’d undone the top three buttons on his crisp, white shirt – Steve counted – and was leaning languidly on the windowsill, a cigarette dangling between his lips.

God he was a sight, Steve thought, all long legs in dark slacks and muscles visible through his shirt when the moonlight hit him just right.

He was humming a tune Steve didn’t recognise but he thought it was beautiful. Bucky would wet his lips after each drag of his cig; so his parted mouth was glistening, blue eyes piercing through the night-time shadows falling on his face.

Steve grabbed his sketchbook off the table, slowly as if trying not to spook a deer away when on a hunting trip in the middle of the woods. He had his charcoals too, right there on the table; it was so perfect how could he resist?

He started to draw the beauty he saw in front of him. Lines frantically drawn trying to capture Bucky Barnes (he never could remain static for long; that boy was always in motion, Steve tried to translate that to paper but he never did have much luck).

Bucky should be in the pictures, Steve thought as he drew. His handsome face and toned muscles wouldn’t go amiss on screen, nor did they in Steve’s drawings. But if Bucky was in the movies, God, the whole world could see the elegance in the way he moved – the way he gently lifted a cigarette to his lips, held between two fingers so softly but somehow never slipping out, the way he pursed his mouth to draw in the smoke, parting his lips ever so slightly to let a slow stream escape those perfectly shaped lips.

Yeah, he could be a movie star alright. For now, though, he’d have to be the star of Steve’s drawings.

The picture was starting to come along real nice; Bucky had kicked his shoes off and Steve had drawn them discarded at the bottom of the window. His mouth had started to twitch into a smile as he told Steve about the dances he’d performed that night (with Bucky Barnes it really was a performance), the way the girls had loved it when he’d twirl them unexpectedly.

Steve had made that specific, lazy smile the expression Bucky wore in the drawing.

He always left the eyes ‘til last whenever he drew Bucky – it was as though they were his hardest feature to capture.

They were pensive tonight, when he gazed out of the window whilst chatting mindlessly about his adventure at the ballroom. His eyelids would flutter shut whenever he’d hum a tune, he was trying to replicate the songs he’d danced to (so Steve could feel as though he was there that night of course).

Steve was having trouble deciding which way was more beautiful.

And then Steve was caught out; he didn’t answer a question Bucky had asked him, which had caused Bucky to direct his attention to Steve.

“Hey, punk, are you even listening?”

Steve jumped slightly, not expecting the change in pace or direction of Bucky’s words.

He looked up from his pad and Bucky was looking right at him, eyes still relaxed yet somehow fond in a way that Steve couldn’t quite describe.

He felt he could draw that fondness, though, and found that he wanted to. He really wanted to.

“Wait, don’t move.” Steve ordered.

Bucky obliged but muttered, “You drawing me again? Thought you would’ve found a better subject by now.”

Steve didn’t respond; to him it felt like too much of a loaded question. What was he supposed to say? Yes, I’m still drawing you – you’re all I ever want to draw, and no there’s no better subject when I’ve got a guy who embodies a damn movie star in my living room.

So, he sat quietly and finished up his drawing.

“You can move now.” Steve said, as he moved to put away his charcoals.

“Well now,” Bucky stood up and sauntered across the room, “let me see the masterpiece, Stevie.”

Steve nodded to the table where he’d placed his sketch pad.

Smirking, Bucky picked it up and opened it to the last page. Steve watched him for any signs of distaste or judgement.

Bucky’s face was neither, it was more…well, flabbergasted.

“You don’t like it?” Steve asked.

“What?” Bucky sighed, “No I…I love it, Steve. There’s no way I look like this, though. Maybe we better get your eyes tested…and what you wrote here at the bottom ‘for my own Clark Gable’? I don’t think so, Stevie, you got all the good looks in this house.”

“You’re an idiot, James Barnes. Am I a good artist?”

“Of course, you’re the fucking best you know I think that.”

“Well then that’s what you look like, at least to me.”

Bucky smiled and sat down next to Steve.

“I wish I had your kind of talent so I could show you what you look like to me.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve laughed, “and how’s that?”

Bucky lifted Steve’s chin up with his thumb and forefinger so they were eye to eye. Steve forgot how to breathe, and for the first time possibly ever it wasn’t because of his asthma.

“Perfect, that’s how.”

And before Steve knew what was happening, Bucky’s lips were on his – warm and sweet, firm and tender.

And he, well…he kissed back. It was automatic, without thought. Bucky sucked on Steve’s lower lip and then pressed his tongue into his mouth and that was the wakeup call Steve needed.

He pushed away from Bucky.

“We can’t do this, you’re drunk!” Steve said frantically.

“I’m not that drunk, Steve. In the morning, I’ll still wanna kiss you the way I do now. I’ll still think you’re perfect the way I do now.”

Steve considered this for a minute. Then, he saw the earnest and fond look in Bucky’s eyes he’d put the paper moments earlier and he believed him.

“I hope you mean that, Buck, ‘cos I think you’re perfect and I wanna kiss you.”

Bucky smirked, “Then kiss me, punk, I don’t have all night.”

And Steve did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Gratuitous fluff and I'm sorry but for some reason I keep getting these little headcanons at like 1am and I have to write them to conclusion before I can sleep. Tonight it was that Steve thinks Bucky's beautiful enough to star in the pictures and pines over him pretty heavily.  
> So as always comments are appreciated. Sorry if it ends abruptly, might write a smutty sequel but for now: sleep.  
> Title from Vance Joy's Riptide (modified for gender).   
> Also young Clark Gable: http://the100.ru/images/lovers/id1490/william-clark-gable-lovers-5025.jpg   
> Whey.


End file.
